


I fixed the ending of Lord of the Flies

by themrp123



Category: Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Genre: Gen, I don't know, WHY DOES EVERY OTHER LOTF FANFIC CONTAIN ROUGH SEX, WTF, fixed canon, rewritten ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 23:32:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10372302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themrp123/pseuds/themrp123
Summary: I wasn't satisfied with the end of Lord of the Flies so my English teacher let me rewrite it for extra credit and I put it on Ao3.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why this is on the Internet now but yeah I rewrote the ending of LotF for extra credit (yes, my teacher basically let me write fan fiction for extra credit). The book itself was ok, something about the prose annoyed me though (some dialogue didn't connect very well, some geography wasn't very well explained). But the end felt unfinished. When all the boys started crying and there was that whole sentence about 'oh he cried for the loss of innocence and his friends and whatever', it just felt like a placeholder. So here it is - a different ending. DISCLAIMER: I don't own LotF and I don't think I'm a better writer than William Golding or anything. This is just here for anyone who shares my feelings about the end of the book. (I secretly think my ending isn't better or less overdramatic than the original).

Ralph tumbled onto the beach, sand worming its way into his mouth and eyes. He lost his momentum and lay, bruised and bloodied, in the sun for a moment, his arms guarding his face. Jack and the tribe would be upon him soon.

Ralph’s limbs felt heavy, and his breath came in sharp bursts that burned his lungs. He knew he had to move - he could hear the whooping and hollering of the savages over the dunes - but the sun’s heat was making it difficult to even twitch a finger. With tremendous effort, Ralph rolled onto his stomach, groaning at the way it made his head spin, and pushed himself up onto his knees. He tossed his unruly mane of hair back and squinted against the sun’s glare. 

He could see two familiar figures a stone’s throw away, almost translucent against the white sand. Simon and Piggy. 

“Piggy? Piggy! Simon!” Ralph rasped. He scrambled towards them on all fours, needing to see them up close. “Simon!”

The figures wavered against the air. They blinked solemnly at Ralph, the sun glowing on their tangled hair like halos. 

Ralph forced himself to stand, staggering towards them in a desperate attempt at running. “Piggy! Simon!”

The tribe thundered its way to the top of a large dune. They could see Ralph stumbling through the sand, a hand reaching for something that wasn’t there. 

Jack frowned. “Wait for him to stop. Then, we surround him,” he ordered.

The savages nodded, a few snickering, most staying silent. They watched Ralph’s clumsy steps, enjoying how pathetic their once-chief looked now. 

“Piggy!”

The shimmering images melted into the blue sky between Ralph’s extended fingers.

Ralph, with a cry, sank to his knees once again. He could hear Jack yelling, the tribe ululating and the thud of so many bare feet on sand, but he remained on his knees, wondering where Simon and Piggy had gone. He should not have let them go. 

When the noises came to a shuddering halt, Ralph looked up. The first thing he saw was the sneering, painted face of Roger. Then he saw Jack’s own smeared face, the violent glint in his eyes, the spear aimed at Ralph’s chest.

For a second, nobody moved. Breath heaved, shoulders rose and fell, sweat dripped. The spear point quivered in the air, inching closer and closer to Ralph’s skin. Ralph’s eyes met Jack’s. Jack’s eyes burned with ferocity, Ralph’s with exhaustion. 

Jack blinked twice. He dropped his spear, sending up a few puffs of sand.

“Jack?” Ralph’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Jack blew out a sharp breath. “I can’t.” He scrubbed a hand over his forehead, some paint coming off on his palm.

Ralph got to his feet. The tribe had lowered their own spears, copying their leader. “Thank you," Ralph murmured.

Jack sneered in response.

Almost accidentally, Ralph turned to observe the island behind them. The fire was howling, leaping from palm to palm in the jungle, turning the creepers into blazing candles. Smoke poured into the sky. 

Jack turned as well, watching the inferno, shoulder-to-shoulder with Ralph. The blackness of the scar was almost hidden beneath the flames. 

The rest of the boys copied their leaders. They felt the heat on their faces even at this distance. 

Ralph looked at Jack. The red-haired boy was definitely thinking - his brow was furrowed and his jaw was set - but it was impossible to tell what he was thinking about. Ralph himself was thinking about home. England. 

Unthinkingly, Ralph took Jack’s hand. The skin was callused and hot. “I still have some hope left,” Ralph whispered.

Jack wrinkled his nose. “Hope? For what?”

“Rescue.”

Their eyes met again, without malice. 

Jack looked away, focusing on the fire again. “So do I,” he muttered.

The fire raged on. Ralph’s knuckles went white around Jack’s hand.

Distantly, there was the low hum of a boat whistle.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if I should write some hot JackxRalph smut.  
> That was sarcasm  
> Bye! <3


End file.
